The ringing went on and on. Kirk scowled. “There’s no answer.”
“Don’t hang up.”
“Fine, it’s your crazy idea, you handle it.” Kirk thrust the cell at Evan.
He accepted the phone and listened to the ringing continue. “Shit, no one’s—” Just as he was about to give up, a man’s voice answered.
“Thank you for calling 1-800-DOM-help. This is the Operator. How may I be of assistance?”
Finally.
“Um, hello. I found your hotline’s card at a local BDSM club, and I wondered if you were equipped to handle an unusual problem my partner and I have run across.”
“No problem is too unusual for our hotline, sir. If it involves kink, we are the place to turn. Why don’t you tell me a bit about your issue and I’ll let you know.”
Evan briefly outlined their situation, more sure every moment this was the right move. Convincing Kirk would be another matter. He knew full well his Master was only humoring him now. But sometimes the sub needed to lead the Master, for his own good. He’d take the subsequent punishment later because he knew this was the right thing for Kirk as well.
The Operator listened and responded, cool and collected, once Evan finished. “Hold one minute, sir, and I’ll connect you to the consultant best able to help you.”
Evan held his breath. He better get good feedback or he’d be hard up to convince Kirk.
“Hello, this is Mistress S, how can I help you this evening?”
With those words, he froze, shook his head and adjusted the cell phone against his ear.
“Can I help you?” the woman repeated.
No. This was some type of auditory hallucination. The evening had been long, the sex intense, even before Kirk’s proposal. The voice on the other end of the phone was not who it sounded like. This was too weird. His skin prickled hard.
“Hello,” he finally managed. What other choice did he have but to get on with it and figure out this shit? “The Operator connected me to you for help, if it pleases you, Mistress.” He sure fell into old habits fast. Evan fought the innate reaction to her, cleared his throat. “My partner and I, my Master, are hoping to get married and have a collaring ceremony.” His words stumbled out of his mouth independent of his brain, which was busy plotting how to confirm the woman’s identity.
“Go on.”
“Problem is we want a family. It’s tough for gay men to adopt, and even if we could, we’ve been discussing our preference to have a child biologically connected to one of us.” Ev’s gravelly voice, still affected by the deep-throating, probably kept her from recognizing him. If she was who he thought she was.
Kirk was staring at him as he spoke, his arms crossed and a frown on that gorgeous face. Six feet of streamlined muscle. Dark hair, dark eyes, fine chiseled features, Evan loved every plane of his lover’s face and body. Down to the scar on his chin from a bar fight their senior year. But the woman’s voice on the other end of the line was churning up old history, tearing open wounds he’d considered closed. Evan kept it close to the cuff. No reason to stir up Kirk by showing an unusual reaction during the conversation.
Her voice continued. “Had you considered going through brokers specializing in surrogate mothers? Some of those agencies also offer egg donor services. I don’t think your D/s status will come up at all in that process if that’s what’s causing worry.”
“That’s not the problem.” As she spoke Evan became more and more certain he was right about the voice. He focused hard to keep the actual problem in mind and not the brand new one developing with the resurfacing of the past.
“No. We’re hoping to go a more unusual path. I prefer to have the mother involved in the co-parenting of the child. It’s not that the baby wouldn’t have two involved parents in me and my partner, but I¼we feel strongly that the role of mother is not replaceable.”
From the chair he’d chosen, Kirk snorted and raised his eyebrows at Evan’s use of the word “we”.
Evan ignored him. “We believe our child would be healthier for having his or her mom around, no matter the complications of the co-parenting arrangement.” He cleared his voice. “I was hoping you might help us identify kinky women in the area who might consider an arrangement with us. Who want a child, and maybe prefer less entanglement with the potential father. We don’t want to keep secrets about our relationship from a prospective mom, so we’d prefer someone in the lifestyle.”
“Wow, this is no little goal.”
“I know.” God, it was her. He knew it. He remembered how often he’d heard the same lilt in her voice when she was truly stumped over a problem. That same wow.
“Where are you two located?” she asked. “Our hotline services a wide area in New England.”
“Cambridge.” Time to test her and see if he was going crazy or if she would react hearing his name. “I’m sorry, I should back up. My name is Evan, Evan Clarke. My partner Kirk and I are hoping for any help you can supply, Mistress.”
He met silence on the other end of the phone. Yes. Bingo. A sick hope lurched in his gut, based on absolutely nothing but some funky extra sense, a deep knowing that this call was meant to happen.
In the background, Kirk silently mouthed his disapproval that Evan exposed his full name, making angry chopping sounds with his hands. Evan waved him off.
After moments, she stuttered out a reply. “I, uh, I’m sure I can help you. Perhaps we can arrange a meeting in person. I can introduce you to a likely candidate and we can go from there.”
“Where?” If he sounded too eager, he didn’t give a shit. “When?”
“Tomorrow night. Nine p.m. at Unfettered, a D/s club in Brighton.”
“Never heard of it, but I’m sure we can find it.” He didn’t care where they met. If she’d said the moon, he would have nodded and asked for the exact coordinates to program into his GPS.
“Great.” Her voice shook. He wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been listening for it. “The street address is 1818 Bermuda. Not many people know about this one, and it’ll be early so we’ll avoid crowds.”
“How will we recognize you?”
“I’ll find you. I get a sense of people talking to them on the phone.”
I just bet.
“It will be both you and your partner? Kirk, you said his name was?”
As if she didn’t know.
“Yes. Kirk Simons.”
More silence and more angry gestures from his Master.
Keep pushing, Ev. She has to react. “By the way, any other name to ask for, if we have trouble finding one another and I put in a word at the club bar?”
“Sar—” She stopped. “Just ask for Mistress S.”
“Great. Tomorrow at nine. Unfettered.”
“Yes. Good night.”
“’Nite. And thanks.”
She released a nervous laugh. “No problem.”
The call ended and Evan closed the phone.
“A little unsafe exposing our legal names, Ev. We do this, we’re going to do this smart. I won’t take risks with you or me.”
“Trust me,” he answered. “I have a sense about this.”
His lover flexed his tightened jaw. “Well?” Kirk demanded. “At least tell me what was said.”
“We’re meeting the hotline consultant at a club tomorrow. She wants to introduce us to a potential candidate.”
“Fuck, that fast?”
“I guess.” He shrugged, dazed and fighting a buried excitement.
“She really thought this plan was doable?”
“She didn’t say.”
Kirk shoved his fingers through his short hair, groaned and closed his eyes. Opening them, he met Evan’s gaze. “Promise me one thing. I do this, give it my best shot to create this dream you’re envisioning, that you’ll marry me this fall, followed immediately by a collaring ceremony. Our nearest and dearest and your bare cock and balls taking my lock and key.”
“If you want me, I’m yours.”
> “I must fucking want you, sweetheart, to be considering this craziness.”
Evan smiled at him. The question remained, would Kirk still want him once he realized who Evan had arranged for them to meet tomorrow night?
His memory blazed. His gorgeous Mistress, loving and harsh at once, whip poised. Arm flashing down. Red haze of pain. And then after, her tender care, the light kisses along his abused flesh. He hadn’t been afraid to name it as the mothering he had craved for years. And it hadn’t bothered her. She appreciated his strengths just as much. Laughing with her later. Fixing up their apartment together and finding the perfect spot to place the wood-tooled toy chest he’d designed for her. Following behind her a pace into a crowded play area, damn proud to be hers, to know how much she loved him. Loving her whole being, her mind, her fierce protectiveness, her desire for life and her uncompromising morals. How she saw the entirety of him. Loving the smell of her hair on their pillows, the feel of it trailing over his skin as she mounted him. Her touch, soft and firm and everything. He loved it all. Always had. Always would.
The world spun back into focus. And Evan faced brand new possibilities. Sarah was back.
Now if only she and Kirk could avoid killing one another.
Chapter Two
The polished wood and low lights helped soothe Sarah’s crumbling nerves. Thank god, they were meeting on a Tuesday night, low-key at any club. The less audience the better for this encounter. She’d arrived half an hour early, settled into the big, comfy chair next to a spattering of other patrons at Unfettered, and started rehearsing in her head the arguments she’d use with Kirk and Evan. If Kirk let her get that far, which was doubtful. God, she must be the universe’s greatest gift to stupid to show up here with this idea.
Jared, the bartender on shift, waved over at her from behind the long counter, asking with a gesture if she needed a refill. He’d introduced himself earlier as if he’d known her forever. Strange, but she’d take any comfort at that point.
She shook her head and kept nursing the seltzer and lime, not because she enjoyed it but because her mouth rivaled the Sahara with her rising anxiety, and alcohol was a bad idea in this situation. She knew she was hurting if she couldn’t even spare an appreciative glance at Jared’s bare pecs and sculpted abs, or try to fit him into categories of Dom, sub or switch. She’d been out of the scene too long.
Although she’d referred callers to Unfettered as a resource to assist with their problems, she had never visited. She’d only worked this job for a month since her move back to Cambridge. But the hotline management strongly recommended the club as a safe meeting ground for kinky souls trying to untangle their problems, and from what she saw, she agreed. There were no public scenes at the moment, and despite the hallways leading off to private rooms with the promise of any amount of pain or pleasure to be found, the club emitted an aura of comfort as the few patrons strolled around in leather and latex and other standard fetish wear. A strange aura for a BDSM club. Well, maybe not strange. BDSM, to her mind, was about honesty and trust, the core of comfort and safety.
Tonight was about honesty. Whether she would regain Kirk’s trust, she didn’t know. The big hole in her chest echoed louder even after twelve years. But she’d made the only choice she could make at that time. She prayed like gangbusters Kirk and Evan understood that now.
It amazed her they had ended up together. Not the male-male thing. She easily believed both to be bisexual. Still, she’d never believed in destiny before. Perhaps it was time to give the concept a whirl. Or maybe she was plain deluded.
Shards had filled her belly that last night—telling Kirk goodbye. Sarah stared harder at her glass, sick as always with the memory.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
She’d dropped by his suite in the Yard late, but not too late. Hoping to catch him once his roommates from his quad had left to party their Saturday night to oblivion, but not too late that she’d miss Kirk before he headed out to the private D/s play party he’d inevitably found for the evening. She would have gone with him if she’d had her way and her life hadn’t fallen into chaos—and if they hadn’t spent the last two and half years tiptoeing around one another on campus, unable to settle the strain between them. No, she refused to feel sorry for herself.
Sarah knocked on the door, waited. After several minutes, she started to turn and go, sure she’d misjudged the timing, when the door opened.
There he stood, leather pants, shirtless, his short, dark brown hair exposing the sleek lines of his face. Kirk could be mistaken for beautiful if one didn’t look at his eyes and the unapologetic masculine power and sense of self that shone from them.
Her presence there clearly surprised him, and for a moment she spotted the unguarded pleasure she’d loved seeing in him during their childhood together.
“You’re back.” He gripped the doorframe tight but kept his smile.
“Yeah. I flew in this morning.”
“How’s your mom? I told you I wanted to go down with you. You shouldn’t have to deal with that yourself.”
“She’s¼not great. The doctors are saying to expect a long recovery. Months in the hospital and then months at a rehab. They’re amazed she wasn’t killed in the car accident. The entire driver’s side caved in around her.” When her numbness over the accident broke, Sarah expected the pain to tear through her over her derailed life and her mom’s disaster. For now she thanked god for her state of numbness.
“And the kids?” he asked.
“Afraid, in shock.” Like Sarah herself. “Confused but holding their own. Our neighbor is watching them for me.”
Kirk stepped into her, placed a hand on her forearm and pulled her into the dorm suite. “Come on. I was going out, but there’s been a change of plans. Let me get out of the leather and we’ll go grab some food instead.”
It was the closest he’d come to warmth with her in months. God, she’d missed that. But that proprietary hand on her arm was exactly the problem.
“No, it’s okay. You go out to the party. I can’t stay. I came to tell you something.”
“What?” His squinting eyes made it clear he’d heard a note in her voice and raised his defenses again.
“I’ve unenrolled. I’m leaving again tomorrow to go back to Bernnod.”
“You’re helping at home the rest of the semester?” He stood taller, not moving but appearing as if he’d stepped back from her anyway. His voice firmed. “You’ll damn well be back for the next term.”
“No. I’m dropping out. Mom’s too injured. I’m moving home to take care of the kids. There’s no one else, you know that. And Jassy’s just five. Paul is eight and Clay turned twelve last month. When Mom gets home, she’ll need care, and if I don’t want the state of Illinois to take the kids, I’m it.”
“I know how old they are, Sarah. I was there helping you care for them for years.”
“Then you understand.”
“You have a little over four more months here before graduation. Let me help find someone to care for them. I have some money. You know I do. Then we’ll both go home and I’ll do this with you. It’s too much for one person.”
“You’re not their brother, Kirk. You have no obligation to help us.”
“You mean I’m not your boyfriend, don’t you? That might be true, but I’m your best friend.”
Her blood iced. “Really? Since when? Since you started avoiding me after freshman year? I didn’t choose to be a Domme. I’m wired that way. You discovered the D/s world with me once we came here and were pissed when I couldn’t be a part of it the way you wanted. I tried, dammit. All that first year. I can’t be your submissive if that’s not me, and you’ve pushed me away because of it.”
“Bullshit. You walked away. Have you told your little subbie you’re leaving? Evan must be crushed.”
His sarcasm thickened the icicles further.
“I spoke to Evan. He’s taking it in a much more mature fashion.” Screw this. She should have known better. What the
y had was gone. So why did it hurt so much? She knew why. Because she loved him.
“You’ve been with him two years and you’re walking away? True love, indeed. Or is he following you home?”
“I won’t have time for a relationship with Mom and the kids. I told him so. He needs to move on because he deserves a Mistress there for him all the time. He knows himself and his needs and I respect that. You deserve more too. You deserve to move on.”
“I have moved on.”
Her eyes rolled. “Obviously, because this bitter act is so convincing.”
“Fuck you, Sarah. When have I ever wanted to do anything but help?”
She softened at the hurt in his voice and the reminder of his determined heart. God, she wanted so much for this man. “You help almost relentlessly and sometimes even when it’s not wanted. I understand it as the Dom in you taking charge, but you won’t take that help back. It’s a two-way street. Even a Dominant is allowed vulnerability at times. We might not have worked because of mismatched sexual preferences, but more so because you couldn’t ever accept my help. You praised my nurturing to high heaven when it was targeted elsewhere. I was Mother Teresa. But if I tried with you, you closed me down. You better get this right in your life, Kirk, because any sub worth her weight needs to take care of you as much as you do her.”
“Are you through?”
His mask was back. He’d closed down, just as she’d said.
“Because I find it ironic,” he continued, “that you’re lecturing me about accepting help when you’re charging back to bumfuck Illinois to play savior to your family all alone.”
FetteredLove Page 3